20 Ways To Trick People Into Thinking You’re Smart…

Frenchy: Hey, Marty, are those new glasses? Marty: Oh yeah, I just got them for school. Don't you think they make me look smarter? Rizzo: Nah, you can still see your face. down your bra?

Frenchy: Hey, Marty, are those new glasses?
Marty: Oh yeah, I just got them for school. Don’t you think they make me look smarter?
Rizzo: Nah, you can still see your face.

1.  Attend art galleries, and act deeply moved when you’re staring face to face with a giant painting of nothing but a big black dot.

2.  Say ‘palate’ whenever referring to your taste in food.

3.  Wear black framed, non-prescription ‘nerd’ glasses.

4.  Live in Brooklyn.

5.  Repeat ideas smart people have said in your presence and pretend that they’re your own.

6.  Use words like, actually, literally, honestly, and personally, at the start of most sentences.

7.  If you watch any reality television, You. Must. Not. Admit. This. EVER.

8.  Tell people your favorite television shows are Homeland, any HBO show (other than True Blood), Downton Abbey, or Breaking Bad.

9.  If you have nothing intelligent to contribute to Facebook, Twitter, etc., at the very least, use these correctly: there, they’re, their, your, you’re, we’re, were, then, than.

10.  Pretend you’re really up on politics, but only read the headlines.

11. Tell people your favorite movies are foreign films, and then name drop at least three titles.  Extra points if you pronounce them correctly.

12.  Hang out at any coffee shop except Starbucks, and preferably one that sells crappy coffee that costs twice as much as the chains.

13.  Shop at independent bookstores, and scour the historical fiction section (hopefully while wearing your black framed nerd glasses.)

14.  Tell people you studied abroad.

15.  Tell people you’ve read lots of books, and name-drop titles like The Importance of Being Earnest, Ulysses, A Tale of Two Cities, The Odyssey, The Old Man and the Sea, etc.

16.  Talk about Freud and drop at least one of his theories into conversation at a dinner party.

17.  Say you love every Woody Allen movie whenever given the chance.

18.  Use the word ‘juxtaposed’ in a sentence correctly.

19.  Use words like layered, texture, ripe, raw and supple when describing music.  Bonus points if you can use any of those words to describe Bon Iver’s music.

20.  When drinking red wine with friends, first refer to the taste as full-bodied and complex, then once you really have their attention, talk about how you love the hints of oak and cedar wood.

~The End.

Pictures courtesy of IMDB

About these ads

To Spill Or Not To Spill…

Do you ever get sick of yourself?  Like, when you’re talking, and suddenly you just want to scream, “Blah!  I don’t wanna talk about me anymore!  I’m over myself today!”  This happens to me a lot when I’m working at the salon, and mostly because I feel like so much of my day revolves around talking about my life.  I think other hair stylists will agree, when women are at the beauty salon they want to gossip, and let me tell you, I’ve heard some cray cray stuff in my time as a stylist.  What always surprises me, though, is how much clients want to know about me. Their questions range from personal to general, but I find that more often than not, I’m asked these questions: What brought you to New York? How long have you been married? How did you meet your husband?  What does your husband do?  Where do you live?  Do you want children?

Sometimes I feel like these ladies are looking at me all like:

You know you want to.

You know you want to.

I really don’t mind sharing things about my personal life, but sometimes it gets exhausting.  It can feel good to talk about myself and therapeutic to share stories, but there are other instances where divulging too much has made me feel overexposed.  I remember telling one client about the time Matt got really sick when we were living in Grenada and how scared I was.  An almost stranger knew about one of the most terrifying moments of my life, and I felt really weird about it afterward.

I think sharing personal anecdotes are one of the big ways women connect with each other (and human beings in general).  Women are emotional creatures, I get it, and I am very emotional, but I do find as I get older, I’m turning into more of a dude.  I don’t really like to have super long conversations on the phone anymore, I can’t stand gossip, and I’ve started to take things at face value more.  Maybe it’s because I live with a dude, maybe it’s because I’m content with where I am in my life, or maybe I simply spent my entire 20′s analyzing myself, and now at 30 I’m spent.  Either way, it’s safe to say I’m just not that into me anymore.  I mean, I love myself as I believe every confident person should, but I just don’t care to brag about how awesome my life is.

I guess I’m too busy living.

~The End.

Photo by Anne Taintor.

It’s Just How It Is (according to me)…

Everyone is dazzled by a French accent.  It’s just how it is.

Just ask Brigitte Bardot.

If you don’t believe me, just ask Brigitte Bardot.

You may find yourself appreciating things like stewed meat, beets, capers, meatloaf, fiber supplements, etc. after reaching the age of 30.  It’s just how it is.

If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would willfully eat a beet salad I would've said you'd gone cray cray.

If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would willfully eat a beet salad I would’ve said you’d gone cray cray.

Most people think they’re smarter, more talented, better looking, funnier, etc. than they actually are.  It’s just how it is.

Said most people.

Unfortunately said by most people.  If you disagree, you’re probably one of ‘em.  Sorry to break it to ya.

Cancer really, really sucks.  It’s just how it is.

Everyone already knows it.

Enough said.

One day you might realize that Hall and Oats is a highly underrated band that makes you want to bust a groove.  You might come to this conclusion at a wedding reception when the band is playing Rich Girl, or maybe it might occur to you while listening to the radio in your car, but it will most definitely not happen until after the age of at least 25.  It’s just how it is.

Hall and Oats

Love the handlebar mustache.

Listen here to:  Rich Girl

Mixed tapes are highly underrated.  It’s just how it is.

Screen shot 2013-03-30 at 6.13.41 PM

Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower would back me up on this (if he were a real, living human being.)

Taylor Swift dates too many dudes and writes too many songs about them.  It’s just how it is.

I'm not hating, though, Tay-Tay.  I still heart your music very much.

I’m not hating, though, Tay-Tay. I still heart your music very much.

Everyone has a mirror face and it’s awkward for everyone else witnessing it, except for the person making the mirror face.  It’s just how it is.

Kim K. is a perfect example.  Naturally.

Kim K. is naturally a perfect example.

Detroit (my hometown) is so much cooler than anyone gives it credit for.  It’s just how it is.

The D

Period.

Teenage drama is and will always be the worst kind of drama no matter how old you get.  It’s just how it is.

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

The accordion is an extremely annoying instrument that is not at all pleasing to the ear. It’s just how it is.

Sorry all you accordion lovers...

Sorry all you accordion lovers…

Everybody wants to rule the world.  It’s just how it is.

Right?  Right.

Right? Right.

Every girl born in the 80′s tried to form their own Babysitters Club when they were a tween.  It’s just it is (or was).

How it all began...

You know you all did it.

No one really knows who coined the term “catfish” or what it has to do with being a scumbag online.  It’s just how it is.

He's looking at you, Mante Teo.

He’s looking at you, Manti Te’o.

~The End

Photos by http://solo-vintage.tumblr.com/post/30864230906/hoodoothatvoodoo-brigitte-bardot-photo-by, http://tastefoodblog.com/2011/06/26/roasted-beets-with-feta-mint-and-pistachios/, http://awakeningcounseling.com/blog_01/hello-world/, http://www.discogs.com/viewimages?release=1790330, http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/one%20winter, http://www.hollyscoop.com/taylor-swift/complete-guide-taylor-swifts-boyfriends.html, http://weheartit.com/entry/35517184/via/joy_sandra#, http://detroitlives.org/2011/01/14/friday-photo-run-long-live-detroit/, http://i.imgur.com/s7aMEw8.png, http://media-cache-is0.pinimg.com/originals/47/12/22/471222d7b0bcd02fda31b5c90d5ca3e6.jpg, www.monsterpop.com.br

How Much is That Doggy in the Window?

This past weekend Matt and I made a trip out to Pennsylvania to visit a Shiba Inu dog breeder.  In Brooklyn there are tons of Shiba Inu’s walking around, and each time I see one, I squeal with delight at their cuteness.  They look like little foxes with their fluffy, flouncy hair.  Maybe my affinity for the breed dates back to one of my favorite middle grade books, Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl, or maybe it’s simply because these pups are just so darn adorable!  Either way, all I know is that when I walked into the breeder’s home and four or five Shiba’s greeted me, I fell head over heels in love!

See what I mean?

See what I mean?  Cuuuuuuuuuuuute!

Now don’t get too excited, Matt and I aren’t the proud owners of one of these pups yet.  The breeders are very serious about their dogs and they won’t sell them to just anybody.  There is an interview process before you can take one of these guys home.  We’re keeping our fingers and toes crossed that we are chosen, and in the meantime, we’ll be mulling over puppy names.

How about you?  Do you have a dog?  If so, what’s the breed and what’s his/her name?

~The End

 

How To Find Out If You Still ‘Got It’…

The title of this post might be slightly misleading.  Don’t let it fool you.  This isn’t much of a how-to guide at all, but rather my own personal story.  I hope you find it funny…

It all started one random Tuesday morning.  I showered, ate breakfast, and dressed for work.  I put on my black skinny jeans, black high-top Converse sneakers, a crew neck cream-colored sweater, and rhinestone button earrings.  Once I was ready, I grabbed my Kindle, and rushed out the door to get to the subway.

After a few stops, I settled into a seat on the train and began to read.  Not long after, a group of high schooler’s, all of them clad in plaid uniforms, hopped on the train, and began to converse loudly.  I tried my best to read, but the kids’ voices were boisterous and distracting.  Soon the lady sitting next to me got up and moved, and in her place, a gangly, freckled-faced boy with wavy brown hair sat down.  He was no more than fifteen or sixteen tops.  I continued to read (The Perks of Being a Wallflower) and I felt as though he was reading over my shoulder (I really hate when people do that, by the way.)  I ignored it, but after some time he quietly uttered, “Hey,” under his breath.

At first I assumed he wasn’t talking to me, so I continued to read (I was at the part where Sam stands up in the car while listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac.)

“Hey,” he said again, this time louder.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at him.  “Hi,” I said.

“What are you reading?”

“The Perks of being a Wallflower.”  And with that, I went back to reading.  (By this time Charlie was talking about Aunt Helen.)

“What school do you go to?”

I took note of his penny loafers, navy blue stock, uniform pants, and tried not to laugh.  This kid thinks I’m in high school?  I asked myself.  Wait.  This kid thinks I’m in high school.  Awesome.  I thought.

“What school do you go to?” he asked again.  “Saint Ann’s?”

I considered letting it go on, but he was so sincere that I felt a little bad.  “No, I go to college actually…and I’m 29…almost 30…and married.”

“You are not.”

“Yes,” I insisted.  “I’m afraid I am.”

“No, you’re not.  C’mon what school do you go to?  I’m not gonna stalk you or anything.”

“I’m serious.”  I showed him my ring to prove it.  “See,” I said.  “I can show you my driver’s license, too, if you want.”

“No, that’s ok,” he said, convinced now.  He stood up, and flung his backpack over one shoulder.  “Nice meeting you…,” he mumbled.

A few minutes later it was time for me to get off the train.  As I walked to work, I couldn’t help but laugh.  I looked down at my Converse shoes, and realized that maybe I was dressed kind of young.  I mean, I am young, but not sixteen.  Still, it made me smile, and inspired me to promptly put a status update on Facebook.

In other news, my dad has edited my name in his phone-book to “Mrs. Robinson.”

And that my friends is the story of how I found out- I still got it.

~The End.

The Woes of Being a Short Person…

This past weekend I went to a concert with my very tall friend, Reagan.  We went to see Morrissey at Terminal 5 in NYC.  One of the reasons I was so excited about this concert was that it was a small venue and standing room only, which meant a great view and an opportunity to get close to the stage.  So, why is Reagan’s height significant to this story you ask?  It’s simple.  She could see and I could not, because well, I’m short.

Sure the music was great, and Morrissey can still sing like he did in the 80′s, but I might as well have been listening to him on my iPod, because I couldn’t see a thing.  Nada.  Not even a little bit.  You know what I think is funny?  (You short people will hopefully identify, and appreciate this) All of the tallest men in the whole damn joint were somehow strategically placed in front of me!  Why, Why, Why does that always happen?

Throughout the concert, I became accustomed to watching other people’s faces around me for their reactions, because I couldn’t see anything myself.  Occasionally the crowd would “Ooooh” or “Ahhhhh” and I just had to assume something really cool was happening.  The most exciting part of the concert was when Morrissey sang the lyrics, “Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire,” in his Bri-ish accent and followed it up with ripping his shirt off like He-Man.  The only reason I know this happened was because my tall friend who could see, turned to me and squealed, “Oh my God, Sar, he just ripped his shirt off!  That was crazy!”  I had to judge by her reaction of shock, then laughter, and then glee that she was thoroughly entertained by his antics, and that it was the highlight of her experience.  However, I did not see any of it.

At one point I blindly held my camera up in the air, set the zoom mode all the way up, and took a pretty decent picture.  In fact, I didn’t realize how good it was until I got home and saw for myself.  Geez, the lengths short people have to go to, to see what’s going on!

Not bad, huh? What can I say, I make the best of my circumstances.

On a side note, I left with a cool souvenir.  I bought myself a t-shirt with Morrissey in a barber’s chair, getting that signature ‘do of his.  How fitting for my profession!  Although I didn’t buy one, they were also selling tote bags that said “Shoplifters of the World Unite.”  Ha!  I thought that was quite cheeky and clever (forgive me for the British slang, but I’m going with a theme here…)

If I learned anything from this experience it’s that next time I go to see one of my favorite artists live, I will invest in some really, really good seats or skip the “standing room only” shenanigans all together, because it was kind of the pits.

Can any of you short people out there identify with this?

~The End

Leo, You Just Don’t Do It For Me Anymore….And Other Ways I Realized I Was Growing Up.

I was like any typical fifteen year old growing up in the late 1990′s.  I was in love with Leonardo DiCaprio.  Swoon.  I mean, wasn’t he just so dreamy in Romeo and Juliet, and forget about Titanic, um…to die for!
My walls were lined with posters of Leo like this one.

Oh, Leo, “you kiss by the book.”

Just when every teenage girl thought they couldn’t love Leo anymore, Titanic came out.  The combination of Jack and Rose’s courtship, highlighted with the haunting score of violins playing in the background as they stood together at the front of the boat intertwining hands was almost too much for any young girls heart.

C’mon, who doesn’t remember this scene?  It was epic.

I mean, could Leo be anymore dreamy than he already was.  Why, yes, yes he could, and he did it so well, didn’t he?

Back then, Leo was my go-to celeb crush, and it stayed that way well into my twenties.  I remember catching Titanic on TBS or some other cable channel, and having to stop whatever I was doing to experience Jack and Rose’s love affair one more time (and probably for the thousandth time.)

Recently I flipped the television on to find Leo’s face as none other than Jack Dawson staring back at me.  I got excited when I discovered that the movie had just started.  Matt was at work, my homework was done, and I had nothing else on my agenda but watching Titanic.

Fifteen minutes went by and I couldn’t help but have the following thoughts:

“Geez, Leo’s a bit scrawny, eh?”

“He looks like he’s about sixteen.”

“This movie is kind of corny.”

I continued to watch and willed myself to enjoy it, but I found that I was distracted.  I was checking my email, texting Matt, and going on Facebook.  Could it be…Was I over Leo?

After an hour of Titanic, I couldn’t deny it anymore.  I was not only over Leo, but I couldn’t understand how I was ever into him to begin with.  He was skinny and feminine, his hair was greasy, and he seemed immature to me now.

This could only mean one thing:  I had grown out of Leo.

And Leo isn’t the only thing I’ve grown out of.  As I approach thirty, I’ve been noticing other things that I’m over…

Journaling:

I used to live for jotting down my feelings in notebooks.  I haven’t done it in years, but recently when we moved into our new apartment, I came across a journal from about seven years ago.  There was a quote scribbled on the cover, and as I read it, I couldn’t help but feel that it was indulgent, childish, and dramatic.  As I held it in my hand, I cringed so much that I wanted to burn it or throw it away.  I never did get rid of it and instead tucked it away into a drawer, but not without looking up who coined the awful quote first.  When I googled it, I found that it was none other than the bratty Avril Lavigne.  Figures. I don’t have any intention of starting another journal anytime soon; I guess I’m just kind of over it, and that’s what my blog is for now.  I can only hope that a few years from now I don’t look back on this thing and cringe….

PDA:

So, I’m not talking about a little hand holding.  Holding hands is totally fine by me.  Matt and I hold hands all the time.  What I am talking about are the groping teenagers on the subway, sitting on their boyfriends laps and making out, as his hand creeps up the back of her shirt.  Gross.  Something has happened to me over the last few years.  Public displays of affection make me uncomfortable.  It used to not bother me at all, but now…well, it makes me want to look away or scream, “Where is your mother when you’re behaving that way?”

Loud Music:

I used to listen to my music really, really loud.  However, now I can’t stand to have music blaring loud.  I can’t concentrate.  I can’t think.  It makes me want to rip my hair out.  I also don’t like shopping at places where they play music too loud, because get this, I can’t shop properly!  Recently I went into Abercrombie and Fitch and between the screaming music, extremely strong perfume that they spray all over everything, and the dim lighting, I didn’t last but thirty seconds.  There is proof that my distaste for the store has everything to do with my age, because I loved that store something terrible not even ten years ago.

Pork:

So, you’re probably going, “Pork?!!  Huh???”  But yeah…pork.  This is perhaps the biggest sign of me being a real grown up.  When I was younger I used to loathe pork chops.  Like, with a passion.  When my mom would make it for dinner, she would have to make me a hot dog because I refused to eat it.  In the last two years, I’ve noticed my tastes in food changing; a little gorgonzola here (which I used to hate) a little goat cheese there (which I used to think tasted like feet, but now love), but perhaps the most shocking change has been pork.  Sometimes when I’m eating it, I’m like, “Who am I?” I used to vow to never ever eat pork, but here I am, eating pork and developing the palate of, well, an older and more adult-ish person.

~The End

Pictures by IMDB

My (humble) Advice for the First Year of Marriage…

Matt and I recently celebrated our first anniversary back in July, and since then I’ve gone back and forth about doing this post.  I’m no expert on marriage and I don’t pretend to be.  I mean, we’ve only been married for one year, but during the year I think that we’ve both learned a lot.  I’ve heard people often talk about the first year of marriage and how it’s the hardest and blah, blah, blah.  I’m not really sure if that’s true…I’ll have to let you know in ten or so years.  What I am sure about, is that marriage is a wild ride filled with twists and turns and highs and lows.

I don’t want to get too preachy in this post, so please keep in mind that these are simply things that I’ve learned.  No marriage is the same, and each relationship has its own dynamic.  What might ring true for us, might be completely different for another couple.  I can honestly say, though, that the following list are all things that I will genuinely take with me in the future.

5.  When in Doubt, Shut the Hell Up.

No, seriously.

I can’t tell you how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into just by running my mouth.  I’m the type of person that just has to say how I feel, even if that means regretting it later.  In the moment it feels good to get it all out there, but do you want to know what doesn’t feel good?  Wishing that you hadn’t said whatever it was afterward.  In fact, it feels terrible.

The point is, sometimes when you just shut the hell up, you realize later that whatever was compelling you to go on a rant, was probably something that would’ve blown over anyway.  So, is it worth it to say something that you might regret later just because you’re mad in the moment?  Probably not.  So, shut the hell up and wait for the storm to blow over.

4.  Do Not, May I Repeat, Do NOT Talk Smack.  Like, Ever.

Just say no to gossip.

Gossiping about your husband or wife to friends, family, strangers, etc. is not good.  Period.  Yes, you will eventually forgive your spouse (at least I hope so), and you will likely forget whatever you said, but do you want to know who won’t forget?  The person that you talked smack to!  Oh yes, that person will always remember, and most likely the gory details, too.

Be conscious of how you portray your loved one.  You should build them up in others eyes, and never put them down.  One of the things that I love most about my husband is that he brags about me.  How do I know this?  Whenever I meet someone new, they’ll ask about my blog, or school, and let me know in some way that he was talking about me in a positive light.  I do the same for him, too.  I’m constantly talking about how brilliant he is, and all of his accomplishments.  Matt- If you’re reading this, I think you’re awesome, and now everyone else knows, too.

3.  Live by the Mantra: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner.

You tell ‘em what’s up, Johnny.

Hey, remember when Patrick Swayze aka Johnny Castle tells a table full of people that nobody puts Baby in the corner?  Well, in a marriage, you can’t ever let anyone put your spouse in the corner…figuratively speaking.  You have to always have each others back no matter what.  You have to be each others greatest defender ’til the end of time.  Why?  Because you’re married and because you’re a team that sticks together through thick and thin.  Why else?  Because nobody puts Baby in the corner.  Period.  It’s that simple.

2.  You Don’t Have to Agree on Everything.

Hey, that’s one way of looking at it.

In a relationship, you’re not going to agree on everything.  Think about it, you’re two different people with different ideas and thoughts.  How could you possibly agree on everything?  It’s impossible.

Matt and I are alike in many ways, but we are very, very different too.  For instance, I like to go to bed early and get up early, and Matt is a night-owl.  I love trashy reality television, and Matt loves the news.  I like to listen to pop music on the radio, and Matt likes to listen to classic rock.  Matt doesn’t like to have stuff lying around the apartment, and I’ve been known to leave my sunglasses, purse, shoes, etc. anywhere that I put them down.  The list could go on, but you get the point.

Throughout our first year of marriage, though, I think that we have found a good way of dealing with our differences.  For example, when Matt’s around I’ll turn the Kardashian’s off, and when I come into the room Matt turns the news off.  Then, we find something on television that we can both agree on:  FOOD.  Because we can always agree on the food network.

I think early in our relationship, we used to try to convince each other more about things that we were passionate about as individuals.  After we got married, I think we both realized that it takes way too much energy to try and change the other person.  Now we just let one another be, and things are much more peaceful.

So, you can say tomato, and he can say tomahhhto, but isn’t it more fun to just say bloody mary?  Because who can’t agree on a bloody mary?

1.  Love to Give.

There was a moment during our wedding where my father-in-law was giving a toast and he said, “It’s not about how much you give, but how much you love to give.”  Even on that day, when there was so much going on around me, it made me stop and think, “Do I love to give?”

Anyone who has known a student in medical school is aware of how busy they can get.  Matt is no exception.  Most of the time, I am the one who takes care of all the household chores, amongst lots of other things, and it’s not always easy doing it on my own.  When he asks me, “Hey, can you iron this shirt?” or “Hey would you mind running to the store for me?” or “Can you take care of this phone call?” or “Can you run here or there?”  I ask myself, “Do I love to give?”  It’s easy to give when you have nothing else going on, but between my job, school, blog, chores, etc., it’s not always convenient.  But do I love to give?

In all honesty, yes.  Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I want to scream, “I don’t want to iron another freaking shirt!”  But for the most part, I can say wholeheartedly that I love to give.  Why is loving to give so important?  I’m not sure that I fully grasped it the first time I heard it in the speech, but after one year of marriage under my belt, I think it’s because when you love to give, you’re not doing it because you have to, or it’s expected of you, or you’re obligated to.  You’re doing it because you genuinely want to do something kind.  When you do something because you have to, it’s easy to become resentful, and when you become resentful it can create a whole host of other issues.

Next stop…the two year mark…and so on and so forth.

~The End.

Pictures by IMDB, Pinterest, and Anne Taintor.

It’s a Nice Day for a White Wedding…

Things have been so hectic lately, and I know my blogging has been sporadic, but I’m planning on getting back on a regular blogging schedule very soon.  Lots of stuff has been going on.  My parents came for a visit to Brooklyn last week to see me and Matt, but also to attend Matt’s younger brother Mike’s wedding.  The wedding took place in Long Island, and was beautiful.  Like any great wedding, it was filled with so much love and laughter, and I think everyone attending felt the love.  That’s the thing about a fantastic wedding, it can make you fall in love with your other half all over again.  Don’t you just love those kinds of weddings?

I was a bridesmaid for Mike’s wife Lauren, and Matt was Mike’s best man.  Can I please take a moment and brag to world?  I am pretty sure that there has never ever been another best man speech in all the history of best man speeches that could top Matt’s.  It was incredible.  He made the crowd laugh, cry, but most of all, he conveyed what an awesome guy Mike is and what a special relationship he has with Lauren.  It was such a beautiful speech, and I had to actively try to hold back my tears, because if I hadn’t, I would have cried like a total maniac.

It wasn’t all mushy gushy stuff though.  We also had so much fun dancing the night away to the incredible band.  Even when my feet hurt so bad that I thought they might fall off, I kept on dancing.  It was one of those weddings where the music was so good that you didn’t want to sit down.

Here are a few shots from the beautiful wedding…

Getting hitched

Me walking down the aisle with one of the groomsmen.

Matt’s sister Stefanie, her husband Justin, and our adorable twin nephews James and Joseph.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Palma

The most epic best man speech is taking place right here.

Brothers gotta hug.

My Mom and Dad

Me and my sister-in-law Stefanie.

Right after they took the plunge.

 

This is probably my favorite picture from the whole wedding. P.S. Lauren and I have no idea what we were doing here.

Livin’ on a Prayer

The blushing bride and her handsome groom. Btw, doesn’t Matt’s brother look exactly like a young Al Pacino circa The Godfather?

~The End.

4 Awkward Things That Have Happened to me Lately…

1. Practically giving my client a shower at work the other day.

The experience should have been something like this.

Everyone can agree that when they go in to get a hair cut at a salon that the shampoo portion of their overall experience is essential, right?  It sets the stage and is sort of a foreshadowing of what the rest of the service will be like.  Well, the other day, I had a little mishap when shampooing my first client of the day.  The woman came in, swinging her bright orange purse, with an assertiveness that made me a little nervous.  She plopped down in the chair that sits in front of the shampoo bowl and told me exactly how she wanted her hair and then informed me that her main goal was to relax and “veg out for the next hour.”  I said okay, and proceeded to turn the water on, which was the part where, as if on cue, I lost control of the shampoo hose and accidentally sprayed her (and me) and the entire surrounding area around us.  The hose slipped out of my hand like it had a mind of its own.  The more I tried to catch it, the worse the water got all over the place.  I blurted out something frantic like, “I’m sorry there was conditioner all over it and it slipped out of my hand,” and braced myself for the reaming I was sure I was about to receive.  Luckily  she graciously forgave me as she dabbed her smeared mascara, and told me it was no big deal.  I was thankful, but I couldn’t help still feeling incredibly awkward after that.

2. Repeatedly getting stuck in awkward conversations with my landlord.

I have a hunch- the old lady cartoon dubbed “Maxine” could quite possibly have been based on my landlord.

Okay, so don’t get me wrong, I sort of love my old lady landlord who lives across the hall.  Sure, she is always popping out of her apartment and getting in the mix of whatever I’m doing, but she is incredibly entertaining.  She is great with one-liners, and she loves to counsel me on how to stay young.  Amongst her most quotable advice that I’ve already been given in the one short month we’ve lived in our apartment has been, “Eat chicken,” which she yelled out to me randomly one day as I was getting my mail in the foyer of our building.  Another one of her gems was, “Wait to have kids- kids complicate everything.” But probably my favorite words of wisdom so far was, “Eat corn- it keeps you regular so that you are not constipated.  Being constipated gives you wrinkles from clenching.

See the thing is, I never really know how to react to these haphazard statements, so I usually end up just smiling and nodding.  The one thing that I can be sure of, though, is that this landlord (who shall remain nameless) is certain to appear as a character in some of my writing in the future, because she is so fun, colorful, and wonderfully awkward.

3. Almost kicking the girl giving me a pedicure smack-dab in the face.

Picture this:  You have extremely ticklish feet and the girl giving you a pedicure is practically tickle torturing you with the nail filer.  It was stuff nightmares are made out of.  Trust me.  Last weekend I went in for a pedicure, and the girl who normally does my nails was busy.  I was in a hurry, so I took the first available nail technician.  I informed her that I was very ticklish feet and to bypass both the foot massage and heel filing part of the pedicure.  Well, I don’t think she understood me, and she must have thought I was telling her to simply do that part more gently, because she was being so delicate with my feet that after two straight minutes of her lightly scraping the heels of my feet with the foot filer, I couldn’t take it anymore and my foot sprang up involuntarily and came two inches from kicking her clean in the face.  I felt really bad and apologized a bunch of times.  However, even then I don’t think I got the message through, because she picked the torture device (foot filer) back up, and resumed lightly filing my feet.  Ugh.

4. Overhearing a TMI conversation.

Trust me honey, nobody wants to hear your convo.

I was oddly getting cell phone service on the subway the other day, when the train was stalled above ground for a few minutes.  There I sat, minding my own business and texting a friend, when a woman, around my age, had gotten on at the stop right before and sat down next to me.  Almost immediately, she decided to make the most out of the train delay and apparently call her gynecologist.  I am not going to get into the details about the personal matters she discussed, but let me just say that it involved, “unusually large blood clots,” “foul-smelling discharge,” and “dryness.”  For a moment I thought I might be on that show “What Would You Do?“, so I decided to not act too obviously disgusted, you know, in case I was getting ready for my big close up.  However, once I realized that this was for real, I couldn’t believe that someone would discuss such personal matters in public.

~The End.

Photos by donmilleris.com, and Pinterest.